Pierre Louis : lyrics (3-4-5-6-7-10-14-15)
Born in 1965 in a squalid town
His chidhood was dull and without gaiety
He'll run away, too late, taking his soul
A black suitcase and his disgusted expression
Obscure lyric writer and insatiable unemployed
He meets by chance some composers
His gloomy despair and his incurable air
By unknown ways seems to touch their heart
But time goes by and fame urge
Turn to dust, alas, intensifying his rancor
His words become embittered and the scattered audience
Run away, trampling on his bum dreams
(this is a poor translation of a poem by Pierre Louis)